


but bear this in mind, it was meant to be

by we_are_the_same



Series: Little Things [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accompanying piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/573883">all these little things</a></p><p>Closeted!Ziam basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but bear this in mind, it was meant to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enza (Zeto)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeto/gifts).



“C'mon, yeah, stay quiet now.” Zayn whispers, though the warning is only half-hearted. He likes hearing Liam laugh, even if it's too loud for what they're doing. He likes how carefree he sounds, how _happy_ , and even if Zayn knows that his happiness is alcohol-fueled, it's better than nothing. Liam hums, presses close in a way that makes Zayn shiver, his nose cold as he presses it against his throat, inhales his scent and breathes out warm air that makes Zayn's skin tingle. 

They've been here before and Zayn knows where to go, knows that no one will see them from the porch, or even from the backyard itself, not when the night's this dark and it's a full moon. The branches from the apple tree block out what little light pours out from the house, and Zayn can't see more than shapes unless he presses close enough to feel the heat Liam's body gives off. He fits his hands under Liam's sweater, fingers splayed over his ribs, and Liam sucks in a breath. _“Cold,”_ he whispers, voice softer now, and Zayn laughs, drunk on more than alcohol, addicted to the feel of his fingers that so perfectly match the spaces in-between Liam's ribs. “I'll keep you warm, Li.” He promises, and Liam hums again, tilts his head from where his back is resting against the tree, pulls Zayn close by the collar of his varsity jacket, and then they're kissing.

Zayn never expected that kissing a boy could feel so bloody brilliant. It's happened close to a dozen times since he's met Liam, but every kiss feels like the first, even the very last at the end of the night, when they both know that they've dragged it out too long, that there's no choice but to say goodbye.

 

_The first time they kiss is a surprise, almost an accident. Liam has only moved to town a few weeks prior, but with his athletic prowess (and, Zayn is sure, his good looks) he's soon impressed the cheerleaders and jocks, has caught Louis's eye with his sweet nature. Louis takes him under his wing and he's a little odd, a little too nice, maybe, but he's accepted into the popular clique what feels like mere minutes after his arrival._

_Something about Liam makes him slide seamlessly into their lives, and Zayn finds himself feeling like he's known him for ages, has no qualms in inviting him for his seventeenth birthday, despite the fact that it wasn't meant to be a huge affair. It's fun, just a couple of guys and a few girls hanging out, watching movies, tossing popcorn at each other. Lou has already decided he will stay the night, and by the time Liam notices the flat tire on his bike, it's so easy to invite him to sleep over, too._

_Zayn isn't sure how it happens, what makes him do it, but something about Liam in his batman boxers (that has him blushing down to the roots of his hair when Zayn notices) and a faded, over-sized tee, brushing his teeth in Zayn's bathroom, steals his breath away. He stands there dumbly for a moment, taste of mint and alcohol on his tongue, and then he drops his rinsed toothbrush into the sink and kisses those pretty, full lips. It's awkward and over quickly because Liam's mouth is full of foamy toothpaste and it should be gross –- Zayn has never considered kissing a boy, doesn't know anyone who has, except for maybe some of the kids that get picked on in school, kids that are called faggot or queer in a tone that has him believing his friends feel that even the thought of kissing another man is disgusting._

_But it isn't gross, and the only thing that makes Zayn's stomach churn is the incredulous look on Liam's face. His wide-eyed, blank stare has Zayn heaving into the toilet bowl, the tremors wracking his body not solely caused by the sudden nausea. What if- he thinks, but Liam never speaks up._

 

 

They've come a long way since that first kiss, but one thing has never changed. Liam is still, without fail, drunk when it happens.

 

_The second time they kiss, it's Liam who leans in. Who connects their lips and laughs against his mouth and Zayn stands in his doorway, fists clenched to his side, bewildered at the feel of Liam's mouth moving almost gently over his own. It's barely longer than their first kiss, and Liam's breath smells like tequila when he whispers “good night” from Zayn's personal space._

 

 

Zayn knows what turns Liam to putty in his hands, these days. Knows where to fit his hands, when to suck on his tongue or bite at his bottom lip, and Liam sighs and melts into him and doesn't care about the bruises that Zayn wants to press into his skin. Wants to, but doesn't, because this thing between them is a secret and Liam's on the swim team. 

_The third time, they sort of fall into one another. Spring formal has come and gone, they've rented a limousine with a couple of the cheerleaders, and Zayn has been stuck with a pretty blond named Perrie who has been all over him at the dance but refuses to put out at the end of the night. Similarly, Liam has been occupied by the head cheerleader, dark-haired and flexible, and it seems like he's going to get lucky, until he stumbles back into the limo after they've made a stop at Danielle's house. His tie is loose and his hair's in disarray and all it takes is one look before Zayn, drunk and miserably horny, is on his back against the leather seats and Liam's on top of him, kissing him desperately and rutting against him until both of them come into their pants._

 

 

“Liam,” Zayn groans, and Liam hums again, eases his teeth into Zayn's neck, and Zayn wants to press closer, wants the imprint to last, but Liam's as careful as Zayn is, even if Zayn doesn't walk around in a speedo three weekdays after class. “Want you.” He says dumbly, but Liam shivers when Zayn's hand brushes against his denim-clad ass, brings him closer so their hips slot together. 

_He's wanted Liam since that night, but nothing's more sobering than having to sit through a terse, silent car ride with come cooling in your boxers. Liam barely acknowledges him when they stop at his house, just mutters good night and Zayn's reminded of when he laughed it against his mouth, that first time Liam kissed him. He whispers good night back and goes home, tries to humor his father when he teases him for his rumpled clothes, holds back the anger that's bubbling up when joke after joke involves the word **she**. His dad seems proud and Zayn wants to throw it in his face but he doesn't, because this is theirs and talking about it will only cheapen it, somehow._

_Or maybe he's afraid._

_He doesn't think Liam's afraid of anything, until Liam sort of smiles at him when they're watching a movie at Louis's house, and Zayn finds himself holding Liam's hand under the blanket until someone calls their attention to how 'queer' they look, sat together with that blanket wrapped around them. Zayn feels Liam's fingers slip away and his laugh is too loud and he drinks too fast._

_He jerks him off too fast too, later that night, behind the apple tree. Zayn barely gets the chance to repay the favor before Liam clamps a hand over his mouth and hisses a desperate “Sh!” –- and Zayn stands there, come-covered fingers pressed against his lips, cock still out of his jeans, waiting for the door to close and Louis to stop calling for them._

_He tries to kiss Liam when his heartbeat has slowed down, but Liam turns his head away and says “Are you crazy?” and Zayn doesn't try again._

 

 

Zayn wishes he could say things changed since that first hand job in Louis's back garden, but Liam still tenses when he hears footsteps, and Zayn obediently takes his hands away, though they're drawn back to his skin the moment Liam exhales in relief. It's like Pavlov's response, and sometimes he hates it, sometimes he wants to push things, wants to figure out just how bad it would be if someone did catch them, but he's so conditioned to it now that he never thinks about it until the chance has passed. 

And he wouldn't, anyway. Because this is all he can have, and it's better than nothing.

 

“ _Are you scared?” Zayn asks, one night. They're tangled together on Zayn's bed but Liam's still tense, still listening avidly for any sign that they're no longer alone. He's pushed his mouth against Zayn's shoulder, muffles a snort there as Zayn traces designs on his back, plays connect the dot with the freckles._

“ _Of course I am.” Liam answers, like it's obvious. And maybe it is, but Zayn wishes it didn't have to be. It's the twenty-first century, there's people who marry the bloody Eiffel tower, the world's not going to end because of two seventeen-year-old boys engaging in a physical relationship. “You should be too.”_

“ _Oh.” Zayn says, and he frowns, shifts until his knee is drawn up, and Liam sighs, doesn't settle into the v of his hips like Zayn maybe wanted him to._

“ _People wouldn't understand.” He says, and Zayn isn't sure **he** does, either._

“ _Understand what?” He asks, despite himself. “Love?”_

“ _Don't be daft.” Liam draws away now, gives Zayn a reproachful look while he's propped up on his elbows, and Zayn feels almost embarrassed despite the fact that they've not lost their clothes, this time. “This isn't love.”_

 

 

Liam's wrong about that, or he may be right from his point of view, but it's love for Zayn. He doesn't tell him that though. 

But it shows.

In the way he stills when Liam asks him to. In the way he shushes him now, when Liam's too drunk to be careful.

 

_Zayn shows love in the things he doesn't do, too. The smiles he doesn't give him. The way he doesn't glare at him when Liam's got his arm around Danielle, or she's pressed against his locker and they're kissing. It shows when he doesn't thread his fingers through Liam's or bumps against him just so he can brush his hand over his waist._

_Zayn's love for Liam shows in the way that he tries to stay away._

_And in the way that he fails._

 

 

“You taste like rum,” he whispers when the footsteps have faded and Liam's back to mouthing at his jaw. Liam laughs, too soft, too intimate, and part of Zayn wants to push him away because he's not been drunk for a while now, never drinks to the point where he doesn't remember, even if it would make things easier.

“I remember you said, last time, you were tired of tasting tequila.” Zayn closes his eyes and makes an affirmative noise, buries his fingers in Liam's hair and holds back on telling him that that wasn't what he meant.

 

“ _Why are you with her?” Zayn asks him, and it's not the right moment, not when Liam's toes are curling and Zayn's been desperate to make him come since the last time he got his hands on him –- over a month ago. But it's exactly the right moment too, because Liam's never more vulnerable than when he's close to orgasm, and Zayn shouldn't like it but he does, because Liam never seems more willing to be with Zayn than he is then and there._

_He wants to believe it's more than just sex, that Liam's whispered “Zayn, Zayn, Zayn.” means something more than just a plea for release._

_Liam grunts and buries his fingers in Zayn's hair and tries to tug him back down, get his mouth back on his cock, and for a moment Zayn considers fighting the steady hand at the back of his neck._

 

 

“You remembered,” Zayn suddenly says, and he straightens up a little, tugs Liam's head back, despite the little whine it causes. 

“Yeah?” Liam sounds unconcerned, even a little confused, and Zayn can see that his lips are puffy and a little wet, shudders when Liam licks them with a look in his eye that says he's all too aware of what it does to him.

“I didn't think you would.” He says weakly, and Liam laughs like it's a funny joke, like the thought hasn't been slowly killing Zayn for months now.

 

“ _I love you.”_

“ _I love you too.”_

_Zayn's sure the whispered exchange isn't meant to be overheard. He tries his hardest to make sure that neither of them knows he did._

_And wonders if he should have, when Liam ends up taking his virginity that night._

 

 

“Li-” He stops him from pushing a hand down his jeans, despite the way his hips automatically lift up towards him, heat pooling low in his belly at the way Liam's been grinding against him.

“What?” Liam says, and it sounds a little frustrated.

Zayn swallows back the words, and whispers “Nothing.”

 

_Their Chem teacher is getting married. To another woman._

_Half of the school jokes about wanting to see their sex-tape._

_Zayn pushes his lunch from one side of his plate to the other, doesn't pay attention to the conversation until Liam's asked for his opinion and Liam states, rather harshly “Love between two people of the same sex doesn't exist”._

 

 

Zayn managed to stay away for a whole month after that, tried reminding himself of his words whenever they were in the same room, but his resolve broke tonight, like it has every night he's told himself this would be the last time.

He lets Liam slip a hand inside his boxers, sighs when Liam twists just right on the upstroke, tilts his head up for a kiss. One last first kiss, he always promises himself, just as he promises himself it's one last, last kiss.

Liam pulls away after a minute, plants a hand against the stem of the tree and scowls. “What's wrong with you tonight?” He asks, and Zayn shakes his head before he can stop himself. “Don't give me that,” comes Liam's voice, and he sounds almost sober now, which makes this so much worse –- because it's all Zayn's wanted, since the first time, for Liam to be sober and _still_ be here.

Still want this the way Zayn wants it.

“It's never gonna be real, is it?” The words come out despite himself, and Liam has the good grace to remove his hand from Zayn's cock as he speaks, and Zayn feels only slightly ashamed that he's still hard. “You're always gonna be drunk.”

Liam shakes his head, and the way he says “Zayn.” sounds almost dismissive, and it's so tempting to let that be it. To never have that conversation because as long as they don't, they'll have stolen moments, hook-ups in the dark, in closets and against apple trees and even in school, that one time.

But Zayn's no good at pretending that he doesn't want what he wants, not when his heart's so close to breaking, when it's possibly already broken, over and over, and that's not Liam's fault because he _let_ him. So he stays quiet but he keeps eye contact until Liam growls and punches the tree next to his head.

“Fuck, Zayn.”

It's too loud but Zayn doesn't shush him this time.

“I don't, okay?” Liam tugs at his hair and looks like his next punch will land on Zayn's mouth, but it's his lips instead. “I don't have to be drunk. I'm not drunk because –- it's not that I don't want this unless I'm drunk.” He confesses it to Zayn's lips, slides his tongue over a quivering bottom lip and dips in for a brief kiss that sets Zayn's head spinning. He's holding back from responding, keeps his lips soft but unmoving despite Liam's increasingly insistent licks, until he groans against Zayn's mouth, bites down hard enough to make it hurt.

Zayn's trembling, hands clenched into fists because he's not sure if he wants to push Liam away or wrap himself around him, ends up just gritting out a quiet “Please” because it sounds like there's more. He wants there to be more.

“It's just-” Liam sighs, presses their foreheads together now, and where his lips were demanding, his hands are gentle, disappearing under Zayn's varsity jacket so he can stroke up his chest. His fingers don't go for a nipple as they usually do, just splay out over his heart and Zayn wonders if he can feel the irregularity of his heartbeat. “I drink, I _have_ to drink, to convince myself that this is enough.”

“I thought that this wasn't love” Zayn finds himself whispering back, and he holds his breath until Liam exhales, shaky. “I thought that love between two people of the same sex didn't exist.”

Another breath ghosts over his cheek, and then Liam's lips are on his again, but this time they're gentle, almost contemplative. “Maybe it does.”


End file.
